On 21 occasions, by one count, during his recent 17-minute telephone filibuster with Roger Clemens, Brian McNamee asked the Rocket, "What do you want me to do?" Or words to that effect.

Twenty-one opportunities. And Clemens, despite his proclamation of innocence and his stated desire to prove it, pretty much passed on each of them.

Now, you know McNamee. He's the one-time Clemens trainer who told the George Mitchell Report investigators that he, McNamee, injected steroids and other stuff into the hindquarters of Clemens on numerous occasions -- actions that, obviously, cast a shadow over the Rocket's career accomplishments that include seven Cy Youngs, 354 victories and 4,672 strikeouts.

Associated Press/David J. PhillipRoger Clemens rejected the life line extended to him last week by Brian McNamee . . . and the fair question to ask is: "Why?"

And there he was, there was McNamee, on the other end of the line, telling Clemens -- with Clemens' reputation, legacy and a fair amount of money and future income on the line -- that he'd do whatever Clemens asked of him. And Roger's response? It was tepid.

In fact, so reluctant was Clemens, so carefully chosen were his words, that it seemed as if he understood that McNamee -- who'd have been prison-bound if he'd lied to authorities -- couldn't really do much and remain within the parameters of the law.

And so, if Roger Clemens really did wonder why people have not been giving him the benefit of the doubt -- when, clearly, they had been doing just that all along when you consider how he'd been treated in his late 30s and early 40s vs. how Barry Bonds was -- he now has his answer.

Because it's simple, really. If Clemens is as innocent as he has professed, why wouldn't he have taken McNamee up on his offer? Why wouldn't he have said something like this:

Brian, here's what you can do for me. You can get on an airplane, fly your butt down here to Houston and join me, side-by-side, at my press conference. Then, you can stand before the baseball nation and tell everybody in it that you lied about injecting me with performance-enhancing drugs. You can tell them that I have never, ever, taken anything illegal, immoral or unethical in my keister or anywhere else. You can tell them that you made the entire story up for some stupid reason and that I've been forever drug-free. Then, you can publicly apologize to me, my family, George Mitchell and baseball fans everywhere for being a no-good sleazeball. That's what you can do for me.

But, no. Instead, Rogers Clemens -- almost certainly under the advice of counsel -- rather meekly said, "I need somebody to tell the truth." And therein lies a whole bunch of gray matter.

Whose truth? The truth under what circumstances? The truth according to what calendar? The truth with how many shades and layers and disclaimers?

It is, of course, possible that Roger Clemens is as pure as your grandmother's pound cake and that he never has allowed PEDs -- whether administered by McNamee or anybody else -- to enter his body. And maybe we'll some day discover this beyond any reasonable doubt. But on this day, so many of us are, at best, confused.